Eighteen-year-old Nat falls for five different boys during her first month at college, but never openly admits her crushes - until one night she drunk texts all five of them. She finds her freshman year turned upside down as she navigates the world...
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Dear idiot blow-drying your hair before the butt crack of dawn,
I wouldn't be mad if you strangled yourself with the cord.
Sincerely,
The girl next door trying to sleep.
The idiot changed the setting, emitting a higher-pitched screech through the wall.
My body temperature under the tangle of blankets rose to an uncomfortable level. I kicked off the sheets, face in the mattress. Throwing out an arm, I patted blindly for a pillow to hold over my bleeding ears.
I found soft, cotton sheets, no pillows. Huh.
With a groan, I lifted my throbbing head and pried my crusty eyelids open.
Light shone through the thin, university-provided curtains, right into my delicate eye sockets.
Ugh!
I dropped my head back into the mattress, dark purple sheets providing momentary relief. But, the buzzing didn't stop, whooshing as Rapunzel dried her precious hair. She could take her hairdryer and shove-
Wait. Purple sheets. Not the pastel pink sheets I spent an inordinate amount of money on.
My mouth went dry. I rolled over onto my back, ignoring the protest of stiff muscles. Where did I fall asleep last night?
Hayley Kiyoko stared down at me from the ceiling.
I poked my tongue into my cheek. Awesome poster, but not mine. I swung my legs off the side of the bed, and my bare feet hit the cold carpet. My spine straightened faster than a puppet on a string.
Frilly pillows piled up on the opposite end of the bed.
I shook my head. How did I manoeuvre myself to sleep with my head at the foot of the bed?
Everything in the single room had a place, from the full shoe rack by the door to the highlighters organized on the desk. The mystery room owner went so far as to tack their schedule on their Summit cork board with a purple tack.
I dragged my butt closer, feet shuffling against the carpet.
The weight on my chest lightened as my eyes narrowed on the glorious eight and a half by eleven slip of paper.
Umaru, Layla: Student Number 436897 read the small print of the schedule.
Tension drained from my muscles. I flopped into Layla's desk chair and pressed a hand to my heart. Crisis averted.
Someway, somehow, I ended up here in Layla's room. What happened last night? We did the interview, I danced with Layla, but the rest was fuzzy.
I rubbed my bottom lip. Why'd Layla let me stay here last night?
